


Morning Lecture

by glorious_spoon



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 12:16:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21015647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_spoon/pseuds/glorious_spoon
Summary: The whole thing can probably ultimately be blamed on Ragnor Fell.





	Morning Lecture

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [sh_ficletinstruments](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/sh_ficletinstruments) collection. 

> **Prompt:**
> 
> Battling for the best lecture hall / office space leads to all the feels

The whole thing started as a lark. Ragnor spent the better part of a century ensconced in the library at Oxford three hundred years ago and became such a fixture that when he started turning up to host lectures no one really thought much of it. The History faculty thought he belonged with Linguistics, the Linguistics faculty thought he was with Philosophy, and the Philosophy faculty would have been just as happy to forswear all knowledge of Ragnor Fell.

Magnus looks back on it fondly these days, with his old friend decades gone, so when an adjunct spot opens up at NYU that fall, he takes it almost entirely on a whim. He’s been stagnating lately in the Spiral Labyrinth. It’ll do him some good to get out, spend a bit more time around mortals. A sort of rejuvenation. Ragnor would never have admitted it, but Magnus always suspected that had played a part in his old mentor’s academic career.

He enjoys it more than he expects to. The students are an even mix of brightly curious and flatly indifferent, and the professional environment is both collegial and cutthroat in a way that reminds him of every gathering of warlocks he’s ever attended. A semester in, his classes are wildly popular, and Magnus is having more fun than he has in decades.

And then a shadowhunter turns up at his 8AM lecture.

He comes in halfway through and drops into an aisle seat. He’s tall, dark-haired and strikingly handsome, but for once that isn’t what catches Magnus’s eye. No, what does that is the Deflect rune on his throat, stark and unmistakable. The brazen bastard hasn’t even bothered to glamour it.

Magnus is distracted and out of sorts throughout his lecture, but no demons charge into the room; no Clave representatives show up to drag him off. Afterward, the shadowhunter hangs back as he’s packing up, and Magnus makes up his mind. He sets his bag down with a _thump_ that makes the boy jump, his hand lifting like he’s about to reach for a weapon before dropping. 

“So,” Magnus says. “If the Clave is going to send shadowhunters to spy on my personal business, I’d appreciate a name I can use in my official complaint.”

“Um,” the boy says. Magnus raises his eyebrows. “It’s--Alec. Alec Lightwood, but the Institute didn’t send me. Not officially, anyway. I was hoping I could talk to you, off the books.”

He looks sincere. His eyes are wide, and there’s a faint blush in his cheeks. And the thing is, all of this has the hallmarks of the sort of situation that Magnus should stay far away from, but—

Well. He _has_ been getting bored. And when it comes down to it, he’s never been able to resist a pretty face.

“Fine,” Magnus sighs, but he finds that he’s smiling. “My next class isn’t until noon. Why don’t we go get a cup of coffee and you can tell me all about it.”


End file.
